


The Beastly  & The Profane

by Hylian_Mage



Series: Unholy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Demonic Possession, F/M, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessed Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles is a bit of a hoe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-17 12:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20620802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylian_Mage/pseuds/Hylian_Mage
Summary: After his friend is attacked and bitten by a mysterious beast, sixteen year-old Stiles Stilinski is thrust headfirst into a world that he never knew existed. One that's been right under his nose his entire life. Now, he must not only help his best friend Scott embrace his new life as a werewolf, but he must also help both his friend and his old acquaintance Derek to find the thing that's stalking and killing the citizens of Beacon Hills before too many bodies pile up.There's only so much he can do. After all, he's only human.Or is he?





	1. In Bodies and Bite Marks

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Was A Teenage Werewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558445) by [HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/HaleHathNoFury). 
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two boys make a decision that will drastically alter the rest of their lives.

It all started with the body. Well, to be fair it started way earlier than that, but the body was essentially the catalyst of the whole damn thing. He just _ had _ to listen in on his dad’s call. The call that told him about the body- sorry, _ half _ of a body- in the woods, that would lead him to perch on his best friend’s roof in the dead of night.

But let’s start at the beginning. Sixteen year old Stiles Stilinski was what many would call a troublemaker, despite being the son of the Sheriff. In fact, it just might’ve been this fact that had him labelled as a delinquent by more than a few. It wasn’t his fault - not really. There’s not much one could do when they’re riddled with ADHD, have only one parent and have a penchant for getting into trouble.

Sue him if one of these impulses happened to be the idea of going out to find half of a dead body. In the middle of a forest. At midnight.

After waiting until the coast was clear, he slipped out of his home, and headed towards his best friend’s house. Fortunately, said best friend Scott McCall, lived only a couple of blocks away. He’d be able to walk the short distance and then hightail it back to his Jeep with his best friend forcibly towed after him in record time. They would then be able to get to the preserve in a few short minutes, hunt for the other half of the body, return with photos and then become the talk of the town! Social superiority, get ready, because here they come.

Now if only Scott could answer his damn phone. Stiles stood in front of the McCall house, phone to his ear while tapping his foot against the concrete impatiently as he waited for his best friend to answer. The light was on in Scott’s room, so the boy with the crooked jaw was, in fact, home. The honey-eyed teen let out a huff and placed his phone back in his pocket after the fifteenth call.

"Well, big problems require big solutions.” He told himself with a nod as he reached into the pocket of his hoodie and brought out his house keys. Both boys, considering how close they were, had keys to each other’s houses - just in case one of them forgot the key to their own house. It was a surprisingly effective system, and it helped in this instance as Stiles unlocked the door and stepped in like he owned the place.

He hadn’t seen the car belonging to Scott’s mom, Melissa, out in the drive, so he assumed that she was working the night shift at the hospital and therefore, wasn’t at home. This allowed Stiles to quietly make his way up the stairs, towards Scott’s room, where he could hear some pop rock music playing. A devious grin split his face as he tiptoed towards the door that was conveniently open a crack.

He peeked inside and saw his best friend sitting on his bed facing the door, lacrosse stick in his hands as he re-netted it. Now, Stiles admitted (only to Scott, of course) that he played for both teams (if you get my meaning). It wasn’t something he was necessarily ashamed of, but he didn’t advertise it like the openly gay Danny Mahealani. He was just never asked is all. But back to the topic at hand, there was Scott, shirtless and working on the lacrosse stick before him.

Stiles watched as Scott focused solely on his task, the muscles in his arms flexing as he moved. Stiles gave an appreciative nod at the sight. It looked like all those practice sessions in the afternoons paid off. Scott, as opposed to last year’s shrimpy and skinny twiglike body, had filled out. What was once flat stomach now bore a six pack, or, rather, the beginnings of one. Scott was, for lack of a better word, _ hot _.

In all honesty, he _ could _ be higher on the social ladder than he was now. In fact, with his looks, his dopey charm and the puppy eyes that could kill a lesser man, he _ should’ve _ been hanging around the popular crowd, hanging with the likes of Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. However, there were two teeny tiny things that prevented him from reaching the top rung of the high school hierarchy.

First was his severe asthma. The poor boy couldn’t run half a mile without huffing, puffing and pulling out his inhaler. This was already a devastating blow, as it meant that he couldn’t shine in the limelight of the school’s sport: lacrosse.

The second thing was Stiles himself. Literally _ nobody _ wanted to hang out with the annoying spaz of a Sheriff's son with the dead mom and bad sense of style - which was perfectly _ fine _ in his opinion, thank you very much - except for Scott. He was touched, really, that Scott would forego the high school fame and stay with him down in the lower depths of the high school food chain. But. He never failed to notice that Scott sometimes wished he was more than what he was, but he would _ never _ blame Stiles for his lot in life.

Did that stop the guilt from eating at him on a daily basis? No. Had he thought about dropping Scott so that his puppy-eyed friend could spread his wings and fly off into popularity? Many times. But that wouldn’t ever work out. The one time they _ did _ go on a break from their friendship after a particularly bad argument, Scott had come bursting into his room with both tears and deadly puppy eyes in full force, tackling him in a suffocating hug and apologizing profusely for something that Stiles _ himself _ started. And this was all within a _ day _ of them splitting.

So yeah, poor Scott was stuck with him down on the bottom rung of anonymity. But that was life, unfortunately. He shook himself out of his musings (and from unashamedly checking out his best friend) when he recalled the reason why he had come here to begin with. Apparently, Scott had heard a noise and was now at his window, looking outside.

Stiles took that as a sign to strike, so he slowly crept into the room, making sure not to make a sound, and tiptoed towards his distracted best friend. Scott was still looking outside, so he didn’t notice Stiles approach until the lanky teen had covered his eyes with his hands and whispered into his ear in the most menacing voice his vocal cords could muster.

"Your time has come, Scotty boy!” Stiles rasped in Scott’s ear.

He _ did _ get hit with the lacrosse stick, but the resulting high-pitched squeal/scream made it more than worth it. Scott stood with his back pressed against the window and his hand over his chest, probably trying to slow his racing heart. Stiles, on the other hand, was on the bed, doubled over and doing his best impression of a hyena.

“What the _ hell _, Stiles?!” Scott whined as he started to breathe heavily, hopefully not on the verge of an asthma attack. That would be bad.

“Oh my _ Goooood _ ! You should’ve seen your face! _ Fuck _ why didn’t I take a picture?!” The other teen cackled as he writhed on Scott’s bed.

Once breath was regained and Scott had calmed down from the abrupt scare, Stiles grinned and rubbed his hands together like a corny movie villain. Scott sat on his desk chair and gave him a wary look, scooting back slightly. 

“Oh Scotty, Scott, Scott. My bro. My other half. The yin to my yang. The-“

“Spit it out, Stiles!” Scott exclaimed, having been overcome with anxiety at his rambling.

Stiles rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together. “Buildup, Scott. Buildup.” He cleared his throat and settled on the bed. “So. Two joggers found a body in the woods.” He stared at Scott, obviously waiting for him to become interested.

He didn’t disappoint, as Scott tilted his head in a remarkably puppylike fashion. “What do you mean? Like a dead body?” He questioned innocently.

Stiles let out a snort and shook his head. _ ‘Oh Scott. Sweet baby angel Scott.’ _ He thought to himself. “No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass a dead body.” Scott huffed and gave him a pout before he asked another question.

“You mean like… _ murdered _?” He asked in a hushed whisper. No reason for that, really. But it just went to show how adorably innocent Scott McCall actually was.

Stiles shrugged and made himself more comfortable on Scott’s bed. “Dunno. But they called in K-9 units and State.” He bit his lip in anticipation of what was next to come.

Scott, of course, walked right into his verbal trap. “Why?” He asked.

“That’s the best part…” He pauses for dramatic effect, whiskey eyes sparkling in mischief and mirth. “They only found _ half _.”

He waited for a moment for that to sink in, and he didn’t have to wait long as Scott’s normally tan skin blanched and his mouth dropped open. Stiles gave him a self-satisfied nod and smirked. “We’re going.”

* * *

It took effort, but Stiles was able to drag a protesting Scott out of his house and into the Jeep. Scott remained sullen with a pout for the first half of the drive, but soon relaxed as they got closer to the preserve. Stiles glanced at him every so often, the other boy looking out the window as he drove.

He reached over and pat his thigh, as Scott looked down at his hand and then at him in confusion. “I’m just... really glad you’re here, Scott.” He said in response to the unasked question.

Scott brightened up considerably and gave him a dimpled smile before turning back outside and relaxing fully in his seat. Stiles withdrew his hand and made the turn into the preserve, pulling the Jeep into a spot and parking. As he put the parking brake on, a feeling of apprehension filled him, dread following along soon after.

He looked up at the dark and gloomy forest and gulped. A part of him felt that he shouldn’t be here, that he should just pull Scott back into the Jeep and drive back to his house where they’d binge movies until they passed out. But Scott was already outside and waiting for him, shivering slightly in the thin hoodie he wore.

Stiles relaxed and took a couple of deep breaths. “Alright Stiles. You’re here now. Don’t be a pussy.” He admonished himself.

With that, he ungracefully swung out of the Jeep and stepped onto solid ground. He pulled his maglight from the glove compartment and walked up to Scott, grabbing his arm and pulling him in whilst the other boy was in the midst of yawning. “No time to lose my friend! Glory awaits!” Stiles held up the mag light like a sword and charged into the woods, poor Scott literally dragged behind him.

They had been walking for only two minutes when Scott spoke up. “We really shouldn’t be here.” He said in worry as he coughed.

Stiles shook his head. “You’re the one who’s always bitching about nothing ever happening in this town. And besides, it’s not like you were gonna do anything other than jerk off.” He replied flippantly, which earned himself a sputter of outrage from an obviously flustered and blushing Scott.

No I wasn’t!” He denied in a whine. “Actually, I wanted to get enough sleep for tomorrow. Lacrosse tryouts are tomorrow.” He clarified.

“_ Right _ . Because sitting on the bench is such a _ grueling _ effort.” He drawled with a roll of his eyes.

“No. I’m going to play. Actually, I’m going to make first line.” He stated proudly, as if it was a fact that could not be proven wrong.

“There you go, it’s always good to have a dream. Even a remarkably unrealistic one.” It might’ve been a bit mean, but Stiles had the best of intentions. He knew how some of the guys on the team were (specifically Jackass Jackson Whittemore), and he didn’t want poor Scott to be made a laughing stock. Oh no, he’d commit bloody murder if they ever did that. He just wanted to protect him, really.

“Do you even know what part of the body you’re looking for?” Scott asked, changing the subject.

Huh. Well. Shit.

“No.” He admitted. “Hadn’t thought about that.”

“And…” Scott grunted as he stepped awkwardly along a small bump. “What if whatever killed them… is still out there?”

Fuck.

“Hadn’t thought about that either.” He kept his gaze forward so he wouldn’t have to look at Scott’s judgmental glare.

“Glad to know you made this plan with your usual attention to detail.” He huffed.

Stiles let out an indignant squawk. “Hey now. I have _ amazing _ attention to detail. There were just some… things I overlooked.” He huffed and turned back straight ahead, now filled with even more apprehension.

He kept an eye on the shadows around them. Who knew if some axe murderer was just lying in wait for another unsuspecting victim or two? A hyperactive spaz and an asthmatic. What a pair.

“Maybe…” Scott’s huffing from behind caught his attention. “The severe… asthmatic should hold the flashlight?”

Stiles stopped and waited for Scott to catch up. In the dim lighting of the moon, he saw Scott grab his inhaler and take a few deep puffs before he handed him the light. “Yeah. Sure.” Stiles mumbled as he turned back and continued to walk forward.

They walked for a few more minutes until Scott spoke up again. “Stiles, I think we should head back.” He sounded so small, so scared, that Stiles had to pause. He bit his lip and warred with himself for a moment.

On one hand, they could keep going according to his plan. On the other… he shook his head. There were _ way _ too many variables and what ifs if they stayed. Yeah, it was better to go.

“Yeah… yeah let’s go back. Here, I’ll lead the way.” He reaches out and gave Scott’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before walking off.

He walked back the way they had come, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet, with the cool air brushing against his exposed skin. He continued on his way for a bit, before the absence of sound behind him caught his attention. He stopped and turned around, seeing a total absence of a Scott-shaped presence following him.

Oh fuck.

He turned in a circle, peering at every bush and shrub. “Scott?” He hissed. “Scott! Where are you?!”

Heart pounding, he scoured the area looking for his wayward friend. A rustling reached his ears, and he immediately froze before he moved to look where the source of the sound came from. “Scott?”

A dark shape flew out, along with the sound of barking. He backpedaled as the K-9 nearly bit his face off and he had to suppress a help of fright before a voice that filled him with even more dread reached his ears. “Hold on. This delinquent’s mine.”

He looked up and winced slightly as he saw the tired and peeved face of his dad, Sheriff Noah Stilinski, look down at him. “Hey dad.” He croaked. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Noah just sighed and gave his son a long-suffering look. “So, do you listen in on all my calls?” He questioned patiently.

Stiles shook his head. “Not all of them. Promise.” He lifted himself up and dusted himself off. “I just thought I could help out, you know? But I dropped my flashlight.” He told him. It wasn’t a total lie, more of a half truth.

Noah didn’t look like he bought it, and rose an eyebrow. “And your other half?” He questioned in suspicion.

Stiles scoffed. “Scott? Nah. He stayed home. Said he wanted to catch up on some sleep for tryouts tomorrow.” He told him. He wouldn’t ever rat out Scott. Not on his life.

His dad stared at him for a long moment, and Stiles stared back. Finally, Noah let out a sigh and nodded. He pointed at Stiles and gave him a stern look. “Home. We’ll talk when I get back.”

Stiles gave him a mock salute and trudged back to where he had parked the Jeep, leaving Noah to shake his head as he watched him walk away. “Kids.” He let out a sigh and looked into the sky.

* * *

Meanwhile, after Stiles had started off, Scott trotted to keep up with him. However, Stiles, as always, underestimated his stride when he was determined to get somewhere and overestimated Scott’s ability to keep up with him. This left Scott falling way behind and inevitably losing sight of Stiles.

In his effort to catch up, he tripped over a stray root and ended up falling to the side and down a steep incline. His head hit the side of a fallen log, leaving him dazed for a few minutes. A small whimper escaped his mouth as he slowly sat up, holding his head, looking around him.

He slowly raised himself to his feet and shivered as he stood there in his now damp hoodie due to the fact he had landed in a puddle. “Stiles.” He whimpered, now completely terrified.

* * *

Stiles was a bundle of nerves as he checked his phone for the thirtieth time. He unlocked it and stared at the message he had sent to Scott not five minutes prior with a growing sense of anxiety.

**{1:30AM}**

**Text me ASAP**

His leg jiggled up and down as he started the Jeep and pulled out of the preserve’s parking lot. He went slowly, both to keep an eye out for Scott and to keep tabs on search party members. After nearly ten minutes of nothing, he let out a sigh and started to pick up his pace. That’s when he heard it.

A long, low howl drifted in the night air, sending shivers down his spine, causing a frown to tug on his face. There were no wolves in California, he had thought. Apparently this one didn’t get the memo.

His worry for Scott doubled at that. He couldn’t place his finger on it but something was _ wrong _. Another noise reached his ears and he turned the radio down so he could hear better. It almost sounded like thunder, but the sky was clear.

The noise got louder and louder until he saw the source of it stampede out of the forest and across the road in front of his car to the other side. Stiles watched both with wide eyes and a racing heart as the herd stormed past his Jeep and into the woods on the other side of the road - and then his phone rang, causing him to jump and grab it with a wild flail. He didn’t even need to look at the caller I.D. to know who it was, the personalized ringtone he had set for Scott a long time back playing through the speakers.

“Scott! Are you ok?!” He asked in a rush.

There was a pained whimper, followed with a sniffle. _ “Stiles…” _

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.” He told him earnestly, already ready to speed off to wherever his friend was.

_“I don’t know…” _ Came the response. _ “Stiles… something bit me.”_

Stiles was silent for a long moment, which would have been a feat in and of itself had it not been for the circumstances. A pair of headlights shone a ways behind him, and he saw a sleek black car speed past him, as he was parked on the side of the road. “Scott. Did a car pass you at all?”

There was another sniffle. _ “Mm-hm. A couple minutes ago. I think. Stiles… it hurts…” _

“I know buddy, hang tight. I’ll be right there.” He promised. He cranked the wheel and performed a U-turn, driving back the way he came. He hung up with Scott and sent a message to his dad.

**{01:43 AM}**

**Picking up Scott. Night terror**

He knew his dad wouldn’t ask any questions if he said that, as Scott used to have those regularly after his dad left. It hadn’t happened in awhile, but it would’t be out of the question for the odd one to pop up every now and again. He continued speeding forwards, eyes peeled for any sight of his best friend.

After a moment, he saw him, stumbling along the road and wracked with shivers. He immediately stopped, parked the Jeep, and got out, half walking, half dragging his friend to the passenger’s side door and getting him settled.

* * *

“Alright Scott, lets see it.”

Scott gave him the most pitiful puppy-eyed look as he raised his virtually destroyed hoodie and revealed to him the semicircle of bite marks on his abdomen. Stiles bit back a wince as he saw his best friend’s body marred by the attack. “It hurts.” Scott wailed as he sat on Stiles’ bed.

“I know buddy. We’ll get it taken care of, ok? Promise.” He gripped Scott’s hand tightly and gave it a comforting squeeze before heading to the bathroom where he kept his first aid kit.

_‘Always good to be prepared.’ _ He thought to himself as he gathered the kit, as well as isopropyl alcohol. He went back to the room where Scott had discarded his ruined hoodie, and was now inspecting his wound with a contorted face of both pain and intrigue.

He sat on his desk chair and rolled up to him, holding the alcohol between his legs and placing the kit on his thigh. “This is gonna sting a bit, but I need to disinfect the wound. Just grab onto my shoulder. ‘K?” He focused on opening the kit and grabbing what he needed, listening to Scott mumble an affirmative and placing his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Scott, of course, let out a cry of pain when Stiles placed the cotton ball soaked with alcohol against his wound. Stiles winced in sympathy, but pressed onwards, disinfecting the bite marks and knowing that he was most likely gonna have a bruise on his shoulder by morning due to how tight Scott’s grip on it was. When he was finished, he brought out gauze and medical tape, expertly dressing it and covering it.

“There. I’ll change it in the morning. You wanna wash up first?” He questioned as he stood up and gathered the items back into the kit. Scott nodded and went to Stiles’ dresser, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a clean pair of boxers. With how often they slept over at each other’s houses, it seemed appropriate that they each had clothes that they could change into. They each had at least a dresser drawer full of clothes and a quarter of closet space. Sharing clothes was commonplace too, but Scott drew the line at wearing any bit of plaid.

Once Scott had left the room, Stiles began to pick up the bloody cotton balls as well as Scott’s torn hoodie. He grimaced at the sight of the torn cloth and placed it in a garage bag, taking it downstairs and placing it next to the back door so he could take it out to the trash the next morning.

He went back upstairs and walked into his room where he was treated to the sight of Scott sitting on his bed clad in just his boxers and picking at the gauze covering his bite mark, brows knit together and a frown of confusion on his face. “Stop picking at it, you’re gonna aggravate it.” Stiles told him as he walked to his dresser and grabbed a couple things from his dresser.

“It… doesn’t hurt too much anymore.” Scott told him, looking up at him with his head tilted.

Stiles didn’t really think too much of it at the time, shrugging it off and closing his dresser drawer. “It might be the shock of it. Just let it be for now.” He told him as he looked him over. There wasn’t really anything else wrong with him, other than the nasty bruise on his head, Which Stiles clicked his tongue at, but dismissed.

He exited his room and went into the bathroom, performing his nightly rituals. Once finished, he stepped out dressed in pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, and went back into his room, where he saw Scott lying beneath the covers on his back, facing the ceiling.

The wide-eyed look he had was one of fear, and he could see his best friend shaking slightly. _ ‘That thing must’ve scared him more than I thought, which I guess is natural. Hell, I’d be the same way if it had happened to me.’ _ He thought to himself as he switched the light off and climbed into the bed beside his best friend.

Scott jumped slightly, but quickly relaxed when he saw it was just Stiles. He turned on his side and snuggled up against him, still trembling, but less than before. Stiles smoothly brought him into an embrace, stroking his floppy hair and breathing evenly. You would think that two teenage boys would be adverse against such close physical contact, but the relationship that was Scott and Stiles’ was tactile at its core.

Ever since they were little and in diapers they always liked to be held by one another, much more so when Claudia, Stiles’ mom, died and when Rafael, Scott’s dad, left. Their remaining parents had to pick up more shifts at work, and so it was really only them two. To them, casual touches, cuddling and the occasional hand holding (strictly in a private setting) was commonplace for them, if not sought out.

Not too long after, the duo faded to sleep.

* * *

Stiles was woken up by whimpering.

At first, he thought it was some animal outside that had gotten lost. But when he regained enough coherent conscience to register his surroundings, he realized that the whimpering was coming from the thrashing shape next to him on the bed. He stared at the dark shape for a minute, confused, before his eyes widened.

_'Oh Jesus. Scott’s actually having a night terror.’ _

He moved quickly, pulling Scott into his embrace and once more stroking his hair. He whispered soothing things to him and held him in a firm but gentle embrace. “It’s ok, Scott. I got you. I won’t let it get you.” He whispered to him, rubbing soothing circles along his back and rocking him gently. He moved so that Scott’s face was pressed into the crook of his neck, the boy calming down slightly.

Stiles let out a small sigh and placed his lips against Scott’s forehead. Scott let out another whimper, but became more calm, snuggling further against Stiles, who felt exhaustion overtake him, and felt himself begin to drift off.


	2. In Deductions and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a lot of internal monologues and trying to figure things out.

Stiles had, surprisingly, slept well, night terror from Scott aside. Although he  _ did _ have a weird dream that he couldn’t remember. He woke up to the sound of his alarm clock blaring and blearily opened his eyes.

The clock read 5:30 AM and he sighed, knowing he still had about thirty minutes before he actually had to get out of bed. He snuggled into the warmth next to him on the bed and closed his eyes again. They had moved during the night, with Scott now essentially spooning him from behind and with his arms wrapped around his waist. He had his nose against the back of his head and mumbled against his neck in protest of him moving.

Stiles, though his eyes were closed and was extremely comfortable, knew he had to get up, so he yawned and tried to squirm out of Scott’s grasp. “Scott, come on. It’s morning.” He mumbled with another yawn.

Scott just whined and held onto him tighter, squeezing him around his middle. Stiles became wide awake then, as the boy squeezed him with a much greater strength than he thought was possible for the sleepy boy. He grunted as he was forced back against the hard planes of his friend’s body, now noticing that he was running much  _ much _ hotter than he normally did.

He frowned and contemplated on what to do. He couldn’t force his way out, but there was one solution. He checked the time and saw that, yes, he’d be able to make it. “Scott if you get up, I’ll make pancakes.” He declared.

It had the desired effect, as Scott’s ears perked and his eyes opened. “Pancakes?” He questioned in hope. “The special ones?”

Stiles nodded and Scott let out a cheer before letting him go. The lanky teen shook his head and chuckled at his best friend. Food  _ always _ motivated Scott to do something. He got up and stretched, joints crawling back into place.

He saw Scott flinch as he stretched and looked around, frowning at his friend’s actions. “You ok Scott?” He questioned as he went to the dresser and grabbed a couple things.

“I heard your joints pop.” Scott confessed, frowning heavily.

Stiles hummed, but shrugged. “I mean it  _ is _ pretty quiet here, and I do crack pretty loudly.” He reminded him.

“Yeah…” Scott didn’t sound too sure as he looked at his best friend.

The teen felt Scott’s eyes on his back, and he turned his head to give his friend a smile. “Hey after I’m done with the pancakes I’ll change your dressing.” He told him as he headed out of the bathroom, towel in hand.

Scott beamed up at him and nodded. “Okay!” He chirped, inquisitive mood gone.

Stiles chuckled again and left the room, leaving Scott to his own devices. Something was gnawing at him, though, something wrong. Maybe it was just residual guilt from being  partially responsible for Scott getting attacked. Yeah… that was it… he’s sure that’s what it was…

* * *

Scott sat on the bed and listened to Stiles leave the room. He didn’t tell him, mostly because he wasn’t sure yet, but he was sure that there was something wrong. For one thing, even now he could still hear Stiles muttering to himself as he got in the shower, and he was able to hear  _ every word _ . He could hear the shower running, could hear Stiles humming to himself as he took his shower, and he could hear something else that he had no idea what it was, but it was oddly comforting to him.

He closed his eyes and took a moment to listen to it.

_ Badump badump, badump badump, badump badump _

He let out a sigh and opened his eyes again, taking in everything else that felt off. He took a sniff and immediately sneezed. He smelled… a lot of things, actually. There was the deodorant stick on Stiles’ dresser, and it made his nose itch as he smelled the overlay of different smells all jumbling into one smell.

There were the few bottles of cheap cologne on the dresser, which smelled similar to the deodorant. That was only in one small area of the room, though. The room at large had a combination of smells that, while mismatched and jumbled together, was one of the best things he had ever smelled before.

He tilted his head to the side as he tried to figure out both what the smell was and where it came from. He couldn’t really pinpoint anything out, but he  _ did _ smell something smokey, almost like a campfire. There were other smells there, but he couldn’t really name it.

All he knew was that the smell in general smelled of home, safety. It was a good smell, and he lay back down on the bed, just smelling it. He didn’t realize that he was rolling around in his best friend’s bed until he heard a throat clearing at the door.

* * *

Stiles didn’t take long in the shower, and while in there, mulled over the situation Scott now found himself in. He admitted that Scott hearing his joints crack wasn’t  _ too _ odd, but the way Scott has reacted, like they were extremely loud to him, had him second-guessing his earlier statement of it just being shock. He hummed to himself, but a frown was on his face as he washed.

After he got out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, heading back to his room to get ready and to take care of Scott’s bandage. He stopped short on the threshold of his room, not quite computing the scene before him until he realized what was going on and had to hold in laughter.

There was Scott, rolling around on his bed without a care in the world. The blankets had wrapped around him so that he was buried beneath them. He held back chuckles and cleared his throat, putting more of an effort as he saw Scott’s head pop up from beneath the nest of blanket, hair a mess and looking at him with wide eyes.

“Having fun there?” Stiles questioned with a raised eyebrow as Scott blushed and got out of bed.

“Sorry.” The boy mumbled. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. It smelled nice.”

Now both eyebrows were up. It  _ smelled _ nice? What the hell? He gave him an odd look, but said nothing as he went to his dresser and started to get dressed. “Go shower, I’ll start on the pancakes and then I’ll help you with your dressings.” He told him.

Scott huffed. “I can do it.” He told him petulantly, but grabbed a towel nonetheless. Stiles snickered as he left and finished getting dressed, exiting his room and hopping down the stairs on one foot as he tried to put a sock on the other one.

Predictably, he tripped over nothing and fell down the last couple with a yelp. “I’m okay!” He yelled upstairs as he heard Scott yell at him down the hall to be careful.

He stood up, stuffed his feet into his shoes, and went to begin the process of making breakfast.

** **

* * *

Scott came down not long after he had started on the last batch. “It’s almost ready, dude.” Stiles told him as he flipped the pancakes. His special cream cheese stuffed pancakes.

“It’s gone.” Scott pronounced, mystified but with a slight waver in his voice.

“Hm?” Stiles didn’t turn around to face him, waiting for the pancakes to fully cook.

“It’s  _ gone _ , Stiles.” He said this with urgency in his voice.

Stiles placed one pancake on each plate before he turned around to see what it was Scott was talking about. “Alright what do you-“

The words died in his throat and he could only stare open-mouthed at Scott. Scott had his shirt raised, and where there  _ should’ve  _ been a bite mark that was still fresh and in no way healed, there  _ wasn’t. _ Only unblemished tan skin. Well, no, there was still a semicircular ring that looked like something tried to take a chomp out of his best friend, but the wound had faded into a faint scar.

The boys looked at each other before looking back at the wound. Then at each other and back at the wound again. “Okay. This is weird.” Stiles proclaimed. ** **   
** **

* * *

Breakfast was tense (for one of them, anyway), with Stiles shooting looks in Scott’s direction every so often and Scott tucking into his meal with his usual vigor and then some. The gears turned in Stiles’ head, but there wasn’t any concrete explanation that he could come up with. Other than shock, of course. But shock couldn’t explain the miraculous healing of the bite.

There were other variables too. Scott still didn’t say what exactly had attacked him, and he didn’t have the heart to ask just yet. He was sure Scott just wanted to put the entire thing behind him, but Stiles never let anything go.

Once he had finished his food, he gave Scott a searching look. Said teen was licking maple syrup off his finger, but looked up at Stiles when he tapped on the table. “So…” Stiles really didn’t know how to ease into this. “Wanna talk about what happened last night?”

Scott’s mood immediately darkened, and he shifted in his seat. “Not really…” He admitted.

Stiles nodded and sat up straighter. “It’s ok if you don’t wanna talk about everything. I just wanna know what it was that bit you.” He told him.

Scott shivered as the memories of the attack obviously came back to him. Stiles was about to open his mouth to say that Scott didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to, when Scott started talking. “It looked… like a big dog. Or a wolf. I couldn’t really see  _ what _ exactly it was because it was dark out, but, I do know it was big. Like really big. And had glowing red eyes.” He released another tremor. “I thought it was gonna kill me, but it just tackled me, bit me and ran. Then I heard the howl.”

Stiles took in everything his friend said and filed it away to mull over throughout the day. His ears perked at the mention of the howl and he nodded. “Yeah I heard it too, right before a stampede of deer ran in front of my car.” He told him.

The classic line of: there are no wolves in California seemed to have taken a back burner with this new information. Obviously something that was canine bit Scott, and, quite possibly, killed someone and tore them in half.

Stiles sat back on his seat as he tried to come up with a logical explanation for it, fiddling with the fork in his hands for the sake of having something to do. His eyes glanced at the clock and saw that they needed to head out if they were gonna be on time for school. He stood up and grinned. “Well! Nothing we can do about it now! Let’s get going, to the mandatory prison institution that is high school.”

** **

* * *

The first day back at school. Also known as: complete and utter  _ hell _ . Thanks to them having left on time, Stiles was able to get a parking spot near the door. But of course, who better to welcome them to the first day of hell than Jackson ‘Jackass’ Whittemore?

Jackson Whittemore. Where does one even  _ begin _ when describing the king of Beacon Hills High? On the outside, he was absolutely gorgeous. Blue eyes, blonde hair, captain of both the swim and lacrosse teams which gave him a killer body. On the inside, though, he was  _ nasty _ .

While he was nice to his close friends, he was an absolute asshole to literally everyone else. Especially to losers like Stiles and Scott. Actually, they were really the  _ only _ ones that the jock picked on, save for the occasional freshman. Huh. Go figure.

Said jock’s ostentatious Porsche zoomed into the parking spot next to the Jeep and immediately the driver’s door opened, nearly smacking Scott on the ass in the process. Jackson stepped out in all his douchey glory and glared at the boy. “Dude. Watch the paint job.” Was all he said before shouldering past him and towards the school.

Jackson Whittemore, ladies and gentlemen.

Stiles rolled his eyes and led Scott towards the building that would serve as their dungeon for the next several hours. He was still unsettled by their conversation earlier, but he figured he could use free periods to do research.

* * *

First period went… well, it was somewhat eventful for both boys. Stiles was lost in his head and writing down various things that floated around in his brain while half listening to what the teacher was droning on about. Scott, on the other hand, was on a hair trigger, jumping at every noise that reached his ears.

Stiles looked down at the small list he had written down on his notepad that had to do with Scott’s current affliction, going over each item one by one. He gnawed on his pen and scratched his shaved head as he looked at them and tried to figure out how it was all connected.

_ ‘Wolf howl. There aren’t wolves in California. Bitten. Bite mark gone overnight. Hearing? Have to run more tests on that. What else?’ _ All that bounced around in Stiles’ head like the screensaver for a DVD player, the boy trying to figure out what it all meant.

Scott flinched as a phone went off. He looked around the room, sure that the teacher was going to confiscate it. But no, the teacher didn’t even bat an eye, nor did anyone else in the classroom.

The ringing continued until someone answered the phone.  _ “Hello?”  _ A girl’s voice asked.

He looked outside and saw a girl with long dark hair standing in front of the school.  _ “No mom, I’m not nervous.” _ She said into the phone.

Had he not been struck by her beauty, Scott would’ve freaked out over the fact that he could hear the girl from so far away. He was left breathless as he watched her.

_ “Tell me I didn’t forget a pen.” _ He heard her mutter to herself.  _ “No mom, I didn’t actually forget a pen.” _

It was then that the vice principal approached her and stuck out his hand.  _ “Miss Argent?” _ He questioned, which she responded to with an affirmative and shook after she hung up the phone.

He could still hear their conversation as they went inside the building and walked down the hall toward the classroom. The door to the room opened and the vice principal entered. “Sorry to interrupt, but I came to drop someone off.” He explained, ushering the girl in.

_ ‘She’s even prettier up close.’ _ Scott thought dreamily as he watched her enter the room.

“That’s alright.” The teacher told the principal before he left. “Class this is Allison Argent. She’s new here and will be joining us from now on. Why don’t you have a seat in front of Mr. McCall, Allison?”

Stiles came back to the real world when the new girl entered the room. She was pretty enough, he supposed, not really his type but beauty is as beauty was, or was that a completely different saying altogether? Ah well, the ends justify the means. He watched her walk down the aisles and sit at the desk in front of Scott, who tapped her shoulder and offered her a pen.

Just one look at the heart eyes they made to each other and the dopey smile Scott sent her way, Stiles knew his best friend was the most recent victim of the villain known as “Puppy Love”. He smirked to himself and looked back down at his list.  _ ‘Way to go Scott.’ _ He thought to himself.

* * *

The first fully eventful thing that happened was in Econ with Finstock, who also happened to be the school’s lacrosse coach. How on earth he managed to do  _ both _ was anyone’s guess. But he was still an amazing coach and teacher.

“Bilinski!”

Except for the fact that he always got his name wrong. He couldn’t fault him, though, it  _ was _ a difficult last name. Thank god he never used his real first name.

“Present!” He chirped with his hand raised.

The Coach continued with roll call, and when he finished, tossed his clipboard onto the desk where it fell with a loud clatter. “Alright. Welcome back, hope you all had a good break, yadda yadda yadda.” Ah, good old Coach.

“This year, we’re going to do something a bit different. I’m going to be pairing you with a partner, and both of you are responsible for doing something. What it is you’re going to do, you’ll find out when you receive your assignment. I’m going to call your names and you’ll both come up and receive the projects you’ll be working on for the term. Now sit tight and shut up while I call your names out.” Stiles was intrigued, and he hoped that he’d get paired with Scott, or at least not Jackson or Greenburg.

Coach Finstock began to call out names and two by two the students got up to receive their assignments. Stiles waited for his name to be called and nervously fidgeted in his seat.

“Bilinski! Lahey!”

Stiles blinked and turned his head towards a boy with curly hair that looked just as surprised and mortified as he felt. Stiles had never really talked to Isaac, and what he did know was surface knowledge at best. He knew that he was on the lacrosse team like him and Scott were, and he knew that his dad used to be Coach of the swimming team until there was some big scandal and he had to retire, now working at the local graveyard.

Stiles half fell half leapt out of his seat, striding towards the desk with the taller and timid boy walking beside him. “You wanna pick?” He questioned with a nudge to him, which Isaac flinched from.

Stiles frowned at that, but he didn’t let that deter him. He figured it was time to widen his social circle, and who better to start with than a timid boy who was a loner like himself? He nodded to himself as he made up his mind.

“It’s fine. You can pick.” Isaac mumbled with downcast eyes.

He waved that off. “No, it’s fine. Go ahead.” He reached out and pat the boy’s back, which was also met with a flinch.

“O-ok then.” He mumbled, sticking his hand into a large glass jar and pulling out a folded sheet of paper.

“Come on, you can sit with me, we can go over it together.” Stiles told him as he turned on his heel and walked back to his desk, not giving Isaac a chance to argue. He sat down and gave a pointed look at the boy, who was just standing there before Coach barked at him to sit down. He hurried over to the empty desk next to Stiles’ and sat down, looking down at his lap and playing with the piece of paper in his fingers.

Stiles took an opportunity to examine the boy, trying to find any characteristic that would stand out. For one thing, he was, in a word, pretty. Blue eyes, curly hair, a face that could only be described as cherubic, and from what he had seen in the locker room once or twice, he had a body that was lined with muscle. But, he did notice the way his eyes shifted back and forth, and the way he hunched into himself.

Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly, filing away any information that he noticed into the back of his mind. He placed his hand on Isaac’s arm and was prepared for the flinch that followed. “Hey, you wanna have a look at the assignment?” He asked him.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Isaac nodded and unfolded the paper, placing it on the desk so that both boys could look at it. Stiles hummed as he looked it over, a few ideas already coming to mind.

‘City Management’ It read. ‘Your assignment is to create a city. You must create it according to the way an actual city is run, and therefore must use real-life amenities.’

“Hm. Doesn’t seem too difficult.” He told Isaac, who nodded. “Here.” Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Why don’t you put your number in and we’ll plan a day where we can get together and work on it.”

Isaac looked from him to the phone and back to him. He wiggled his eyebrows and gestured with his chin to the phone in response. Tentatively, the boy reached over and grabbed it, inputting his number in and handing it back to the other teen, who grabbed it and immediately typed out a message to him.

** **

**{10:30 AM}**

**Heyyyy! It’s ya boi! Stiles B)**

** **

Of course he had to keep  _ some _ dramatic flair. Isaac pulled his own phone out of his pocket and the corners of his mouth quirked when he saw the message. He tapped his screen and made a new contact for Stiles, the other boy doing the same for him. As the period continued, Stiles glaced out of the corner of his eye at Isaac, who still looked high-strung, but was a bit more relaxed than he had been before. Stiles counted that as a mini-win.

** **

* * *

All too soon came lacrosse practice, and Stiles sighed to himself as he readied himself for yet another year on the bench. To be honest, he had  _ some _ talent in the sport, what with his long limbs carrying him far and fast. His downfall was both his ADHD and his tendency to trip over literally nothing. His coordination was shit.

So yeah, benchwarmer for him. The coach blew the whistle and he stood there unfazed. Scott, on the other hand, winced as the piercing screech hit his ears.

Stiles winced in sympathy for his friend, especially after Coach decided to put him as goalie so that their teammates could score easy goals. That was a big yike. And after seeing Scott’s head snap towards the stands and following his gaze to where Allison stood with her new best friend, Lydia Martin (AKA the Queen of Beacon Hills High ((note that he capitalizes her title unlike her douche boyfriend))), were standing and watching them practice... Oh damn. Double yike. He could only hope Scott could handle the humiliation.

Except… it never came. On the contrary, Scott caught every single ball that was launched at him. It was… amazing. Stiles was cheering him on every instant, elated for his best friend. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned his head to glance towards the woods, where he could see a dark shape against the backdrop of trees.

Stiles squinted so he could try and see better, but the figure was too far away to make out clear details. As suddenly as he appeared, he vanished behind one of the trees. Stiles suppressed a shiver, and tried to push that out of his mind as he turned back to see Scott blocking every single shot, including Jackass’.

Oh this was a glorious day, indeed.

* * *

** **

After practice found Scott and Stiles back at the preserve. The reason for this was that Scott had apparently dropped his inhaler when he had gotten lost the night before. Of course Stiles was more than willing to help him out.

As they walked, Scott was regaling Stiles with the tale of how he felt on the lacrosse pitch.”It’s like, I had plenty of time to catch it. Like the world slowed down.” He told him.

Stiles was listening to all of this and chuckled. “So, enhanced reflexes, super hearing, super healing, super smell. Who knows dude, maybe that was a werewolf that bit you.” He joked. Oh how little he knew.

Scott snorted. “I’m serious Stiles. I’m hearing things I shouldn’t be able to hear, smelling things that I shouldn’t be able to smell. It all happened after I was bitten. There could be something really wrong with me.” Scott was worried, and rightfully so, but Stiles would take care of it. He always had, hadn’t he?

So what did he do? Turn it into a joke, of course. “You know, I think I might have heard of this before.” He told him in as serious a voice as he could muster.

Scott looked up at him with an alarmed look. “You have?” He questioned.

Stiles nodded. “Yup. It’s called Lycanthropy.” He told him in a grave tone.

Scott’s eyes widened and he bit his lip. “Is it bad?”

“Oh yeah, it’s the worst. Only once a month though.”

Now Scott looked terrified. “What happens once a month?”

“Well, you sprout hair all over the place and go on a killing spree.” He couldn’t hold the grin back anymore as he let out an imitation of a wolf howl.

Scott caught onto the joke and punched him in the arm. “Ass.”

Stiles cackled and continued to follow him through the woods, not willing to let the joke go. “Alright but don’t be alarmed if you see me in shop on Friday trying to melt all the silver I can get my hands on.” He told him. ** **   
** **

This was met with a tilted head from Scott. “What happens on Friday?”

“The full moon.” Stiles answered easily.

Scott scowled and shoved him slightly. “Quit it.”

They continued to joke around until they reached where Scott had said he had fallen. He looked around and frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand, it was right here. I had hit my head against that log, and the body was right there.”

“Whoa whoa whoa. Time out. You  _ found _ the body?” Stiles stared at him open mouthed.

He nodded. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you. I had kinda forgotten about it after I got bitten.” He confessed.

Stiles was about to say something when a new voice reached his ears. “Hey! What are you doing here?! This is private property!” The voice was angry, and it was released in a hostile gruff.

Both boys whirled around to find a guy standing there, and Stiles had to control himself from letting his mouth fall open and his tongue fall out. Why was this the case? The guy currently standing across from him was setting Stiles’ hormones into overdrive and leaving him seriously questioning his attraction to Lydia.

The guy was literally sex on legs. Dark hair, a jawline that could’ve sliced bread, fair skin, eyes that were a furious shade of blue-green and a body that was even better than Jackson’s. He wore a leather jacket over a dark colored Henley, jeans that looked painted onto his legs, and black boots. Yeah, Stiles was legit feeling some type of way.

“I asked you a question.” Angry Guy growled. “What are you doing here?”

There was something about him that was familiar, but Stiles couldn’t quite place it. “S-sorry about that, dude. My friend just lost something last night. An inhaler.” He stammered. He  _ never _ stammers.

Angry Guy pulled out something from his pocket and threw it at them, Scott’s arm reaching out like lightning and catching the object. “There. Now leave. I don’t want to see you snooping around here again.” He turned to leave, but Stiles had an epiphany.

“Wait.  _ Derek _ ?! Derek Hale?” His mouth hung open as he took in the man standing before them. Obviously, Derek had changed from the time that he knew him.

Both Scott and Derek turned to look at him, bewildered and suspicious on Derek’s part. Stiles went from shocked to having a grin nearly split his face in two. He started to talk nearly a mile a minute, and Derek went from suspicious, to bewildered, to extremely wary.

“Oh my  _ God _ ! It’s been  _ forever _ ! Where have you been all these years? Honestly it got so boring without you around. Thank God Scott, that’s this doofus right here, was there, otherwise I don’t know  _ what _ I would’ve done. Man, I remember the good old days, you know, before the fire. But you probably don’t wanna talk about that so let’s talk about something else. Are you here by yourself, or did Laura come with you? I still remember the chocolate chip cookies she used to make. I can’t tell you  _ how _ many times I tried to make them. And I like to think I’m a pretty good cook, but I couldn’t figure out how to make those for the life of me. I was gonna try and get the recipe from her, but you guys dipped. Do you think she-”

He was cut off by Derek suddenly being _right_ _there_ and pinning him against the nearest tree, hand over his mouth and effectively silencing him. “Shut. The hell. _Up_.” The last word was spoken with a growl that reverberated throughout his body.

A wave of protectiveness came over Scott and he went to move towards the two. A glare in his direction from Derek stopped him short. The heat and aggravation in Derek’s gaze made him want to lie down and show him his belly, and he wasn’t even using that as a metaphor.

Stiles was… oddly okay with being pinned against a tree, despite the obvious danger he was in. Derek looked like he could literally  _ eat him _ , but it seemed to have the opposite effect on him than it would have on a sane human being. A gnawing heat began to grow in the pit of his belly and spread throughout his body until his skin tingled and he clutched onto the tree for support.

Derek was… he was a mess, to put it lightly. Here he was, attending to what he needed to attend to, and these two pissants come waltzing onto  _ his _ property, his  _ territory _ , as if they owned the place. That just wouldn’t do. It was bad enough for the born werewolf to come  _ back _ to this hellhole, but add to it that the reason he came back was because his sister was murdered and left in the woods like a piece of trash,  _ and _ started turning random kids; that was enough to already make the high-strung man even more stressed. But this kid. This  _ fucking _ kid. Running his mouth and acting like he knew him, when Derek was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened, that was the proverbial straw.

The floppy-haired one was definitely the one who was turned. But from what Derek saw, he had absolutely no idea. The loudmouthed one was unwittingly right on the nose with his deduction, and it pained Derek to think that, but even he brushed it off as a joke.

His nostrils flared as a scent hit him, one heady and syrupy sweet. His gaze immediately locked onto the boy he had pinned to the tree and he could feel his wolf reacting to it in a way that was not, in any way, PG. His eyes shut as he could feel them burning their supernatural blue color, and he focused on his anchor in order to not completely lose control.

He pushed off of him and tossed the other wolf his inhaler. “This is private property. Go away.” Was all he said before he walked off to take a cold shower. And possibly bash his head into a couple walls.

** **

* * *

Stiles was, in a word, obsessed. After he and Scott had encountered Derek in the woods (and hadn’t  _ that _ been a fine “how do you do”?) he had dove in headfirst into research. Both about werewolves (as that was really the only option he had concluded was Scott’s condition as he hadn’t fallen into a vat of toxic waste) and about the Hale family.

In retrospect, it was a bit insensitive to dig up all background information regarding a man’s dead family. Specifically a man who looked like he had absolutely no qualms about issuing bodily damage. But it was for a good cause.

He dug up surprisingly little about the Hales that wasn’t regarding the fire that nearly killed all of them off six years prior. No Christmas cards, no pictures at all, no school photos save for a few of Derek when he attended Beacon Hills High due to being Captain of the basketball team. This brought up a red flag in his head, which multiplied the more he read about them from the little sources he could get them from.

He cross-referenced everything that he had dug up about the Hales with the research he had done on lycanthropes, and the more things began to add up. He placed the evidence onto his board and spent quite a bit of time going over each and every piece of evidence he had until they all fit together.

_ Super speed _

_ Agility _

_ Hearing _

_ Smell _

_ Canine-like tendencies _

_ Shift? _

_ Hales _

_ Werewolf _

The last word was written in red ink and circled smack dab in the middle of the board. Setting his jaw, he gathered his things and left for the Jeep. It wouldn’t take long to reach the old Hale House where a possible werewolf was resting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who liked this! As you can see, I don't really have a set schedule but I AM trying to make it, what... every other week that an update comes out? At least, I'll try to, anyways. You guys can help! All your feedback is so very much appreciated and it helps motivate me to post more! Anyways, I'll see you all next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for taking the time to read this little bit that I’ve had floating around my head for some time now! As you can see it’s going to be a bit AU so some things that happened in the show won’t happen here, as well as some things happening here that weren’t in the show.
> 
> Please leave feedback letting me know what you guys think! It really helps! And stay tuned for the next chapter!


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